Blood Work
by Anonimoose
Summary: Crossover with Secret Window. And Sands is a vampire. May be slash later on.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well this is my very first OUaTiM fic and I hope you guys like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own OUaTiM or any of the characters that you recognize.

He lifted his mouth away from the lifeless neck that he had just been sucking on. Nothing can compare to the rush of a fresh kill. Savoring the taste as the last few trickles of blood slithered down his throat he took out his gun and casually put the silencer on it. He dropped the body and shot right in between the two marks his fangs had left behind. Now no one would know that a vampire had, drop by drop, drained this obese, middle-aged man of his very life force. The best part about it was that victims didn't die until there was only a couple pints of blood left. Watching them gasp and pant was almost as good as the blood itself. Of course now he couldn't see them struggle. He had to listen and feel. That was more than enough reason to suck them dry.

Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands walked out of the alley way he had just been in looking about ten years younger. If it wasn't for the darkness that he was shrouded in other night stalkers would notice how pale he now was.

_Nice going Sheldon. What would your brother think of you now? He always told you how horrible it was to kill people. How bad it was take the life of another living thing. And now that's exactly what you do. Take the life force of other people. Despicable. _

"Shut up." He whispered back to the voice in his head. "He left me. He left me to rot away in an orphanage while he went off and lived in a nice house with a nice family. He could be just like me, but he chose to ignore his heritage. Bastard!" People that he passed were starting to stare. Maybe he was getting just a bit too loud. Or maybe he took just a little bit too much blood and now he looked like he was sickly. Someone finally stopped him and told him that he looked as if he was about to pass out.

"No sir, I'm fine, but could you maybe help me out. I'm in a bit of a jam you see. Come over here and I'll explain everything." He was leading the man to his death. Maybe he'd just take some of his blood. "Sir?" Sands turned. "Is that a fake mustache?" A sinister grin came across Sands' face. "Why yes. It is." He closed in on the man and sunk his teeth into his jugular.

_Sheldon. Don't be greedy. Just take a little bit. Think of what Mort would say._

"I don't give a shit about what Mort would say." As soon as Sands loosened his grip the man ran off without a single glance back. "Fuck." Suddenly a familiar jingling reached his ears. "The?"

El stopped in his tracks. America was more dangerous than he thought it would be. "Sands?"

"How did you know it was me? Am I that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Let's go get something to eat."

-

So there it is. This is only the first chapter to what will hopefully be a long story. Tell me what you think please. I could really use some input.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Well this is chapter two. And thanks to the reviewers and readers.

"So El, what brings you to Washington?"

"The President hired me as a bodyguard. He came to visit the American President. I had to come along." El watched as Sands picked at his meal. He was just pushing the food around the plate and it made El almost sick knowing that the cook that made it was going to die. "Are you going to kill the man who made that food."

"No. This food is just mediocre enough to save the life of the one who made it. And why are you so sure that the cook is a man? A bit sexist, eh?" Sands flagged down the server and shot him in the stomach. "On the other hand, that waiter was phenomenal." Sands smirked and left the restaurant. As they were walking out El noticed the barmaid picking up the phone and calling the police.

"They called the pigs?"

"Que?" El turned around to face Sands. "Did they call the police?"

"Si."

"I know you speak English. No need to hide it. So do you like working for dear El Presidente?"

"If you speak Spanish so well, why do you insist on pretending that you don't?"

"None of your bees wax, mister. Now answer the question."

"Si. Loco pistolero. What are you doing here?" Sands stopped walking. "I live here, El. It's where my job is."

"So you really are a CIA agent? I thought you were just some spoiled brat who thought he could do whatever he wanted. And you should really take off those sunglasses. Esta noche."

"Yo se."

"So?" Sands pushed El into a nearby wall and held him there firmly. _Sands. Get a hold of yourself. He doesn't know. You don't have to kill him. Think of happy things. _El watched as Sands backed off and put his hands up to his forehead, as if he had a headache. "Go away. Go away."

"Sands?" Then there was a gun in his face. "Don't you dare pity me. I could kill you. I could kill you and never think about it ever again. All I would think about is how good your righteous blood tasted. How sweet it was." As he said this, he had slowly walked closer and closer until he was speaking against El's neck. El felt something sharp prick his skin and a cold tongue gliding over the cut. "Just like wine. Adios, The."

Sands was shaking. He almost lost it. He almost forgot that he wasn't alone in this world. Even though he couldn't see other people, they were still there. They were still watching him. _Sheldon-_

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You aren't there. You're just my fucking conscience. You. Don't. Exist."

"Shel?" Sands froze. "Shel, is that you?"

-

Ta Da! Cliff hanger! Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So here's the next chapter. And I'd like to apologize in advance if I get any details from Secret Window wrong and if Mort is out of character. Before I write the next chapter I'm going to watch the movie again so it won't be like that next chapter. Enjoy!

-

Sands gulped. Slowly he turned around so he was facing the person who had spoken to him. "My name is Sands. Not Shel. And it's been a long time. What have you been up to Mort."

"Writing. Don't suppose you read any of my stuff?"

"It is rather difficult to read when you don't have eyes. Now if you'll excuse-."

"I'm sorry Shel. I didn't mean to leave you when we were little. You are still my little brother."

"I have to go." And with that Sands turned and walked, very quickly as it were, in the opposite direction. _Sheldon what are you doing. You haven't seen him in years and you just walk away. Go back there and talk to him. Tell him how you feel. He'll help you. _

"I don't need any help. I'm perfectly fine on my own. Though I could do without you, you whiny little snot." _That's not a very nice thing to say to someone. You really should work on your manners. Do you even have manners?_ "Possibly." _Then you should show them. People like it when they are treated with respect. And we have to hurry or you'll be late for work. _"I think I'm one of the few people who have to go to work in the middle of the night."

-

"Sands!"

"Yes?"

"I was just looking at your file and saw that you haven't had a physical or psychological examination for over two years. Why?"

"Well I was in Mexico for a while."

"Well you are going to go have those exams right this minute. Go!"

Sands got up from his desk and walked towards the elevator. _Sheldon. How could you forget that you have to go for examinations every year. Now I understand that you were in Mexico, but you should've had one down there. _"You are going to shut up even if I have to make you."

"Hello, Sands. What are you doing down here?"

"The boss found out that I haven't had any exams for two years. Gonna check me out?"

"Sure. We'll start with an eye exam. Now take off your sunglasses." Sands reached up very slowly. His hand brushed against the side of the glasses and he yanked them off. Libby screamed. Never in her life had she seen something so horrible done to someone's face. "Sands? What happened?"

"I got my eyes ripped out of my skull by a sick doctor. It isn't exactly a new development. Actually I'm pretty used to it. Don't even have to use a cane. Now if I could talk to you about the rest of these exams. Could you just say I took them. Give me a good score. Not too good though. Thanks." He put his glasses back on and strode out of the room with Libby still staring in shock. At the last minute he turned around. "On second thought, I think I should have some insurance. So I know you won't tell."

Sands grabbed Libby by the shoulders and bit into her neck. I silent scream escaped her lips as he drained the last of her blood and she went limp in his arms. "I always knew you were sweet, Libby." He let go of her and listened as she landed in a heap on the floor. "See you around."

When he left the room he went straight to his boss' office. "Hey listen, Libby wasn't there so I'll just take the tests on my own time. Now do you have an assignment for me, or were you just hoping to find my address so you could be at my place later so I could fuck you senseless after work?"

"I need you to play bodyguard."

"Oh so you do have an assignment."

"Yes. There is a man who is suspected of murder in Tashmore Lake. A Morton Rainey. We need you to get close to him and find out if he committed these crimes. He is suspected of murdering 3 men, one woman, and one dog. We know that he is here in Washington for a book signing. He just re-released his story 'Secret Window' with a new ending. He is saying at a motel called 'Happy Smiles'. You should be able to find him at Barnes and Noble or Borders. Rumor has it he doesn't do the small independent bookstores. Find him and contact me when you do. Collect as many reinforcements as you need."

"Does it say that he was adopted?"

"What? That doesn't matter. Now go."

_Sheldon how could you think that Mort would do something so horrible. He could never kill anyone. You have to go and prove him to be innocent. _

Sands left the office and walked straight outside. He had to convict his brother of murder. His brother who had always said that killing was bad. All he could do was grin. He walked to the motel and stole a key to Mort's room. He went inside and waited.

Mort, on the other hand, was just coming home to the motel. He took out his key and opened the door. "Holy shit!" He slammed the door closed. "Who are you?" he yelled through the door. Suddenly the door was pulled open from the inside. "Now Mort, that's no way to speak to your brother now is it?"

-

Wow! That's a lot longer than I thought it would be. I just couldn't stop writing. Hope you guys liked it. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So here is chapter 4. I hope all of you enjoy it. I think I got Mort's character just right too. So if you could reassure me that would be nice. Or if you tell me what I need to fix.

-

"Shel? Well what a...nice surprise."

"Yeah. So you couldn't find a better place to stay? I thought you were a big shot writer." Mort walked past Sands into the room and threw his jacket onto the bed. Sands closed the door behind him and sat down at the small coffee table by the window.

"I wouldn't say that I'm a big shot writer. The only thing that matters is the ending and I can usually think up some pretty good endings." Mort smiled and unknowingly showed off his braces. Sands burst out laughing. He had been able to hear the clicking that Mort's braces made and couldn't hold back any longer.

"Didn't you out grow braces at thirteen. I mean you had a family that could afford to get you braces." The smile dissolved off of Mort's face. Sands got up and walked into the kitchenette only to find it filled with corn. "And what the fuck do you have all this corn for?"

"I grow corn at home. The townspeople are afraid of me for some odd reason. So I have to go all the way to New London just to shop. Everyone thinks that I killed a few people. What they don't understand is that it wasn't me." He could hear Sands fiddling around with the corn and various dishes. "What are you doing in there?"

Sands came back out with a plate full of corn and sat down on the bed. "Just seeing how good of a cook you are." He bit into the corn and put it back down on the plate. "Not bad, but you know that you aren't supposed to eat corn when you have braces."

"Yeah I know. It'll get stuck. So you have to be my bodyguard?"

"Yup. And let me tell you, I'm just thrilled. I'm so happy that I get to hold off all of those fan girls who think that you're oh so wonderful. Well what do we have to do tomorrow?"

"Well we've got an appearance at some little downtown coffee shop, then there's a book signing at Borders, and then I head back to Tashmore Lakes. Are you coming back with me?"

"I hope not." Sands got up and put away his dishes. On the way back he bumped into the corner of the bed and was temporarily off balance. Mort stood up to help him and Sands punched him in the face. "Don't try to help me. I'm fine on my own."

"Then why did you walk into the bed?"

"I told you before, I don't have any eyes." Sands took off his sunglasses and stared to where Mort should be standing. Mort was caught off guard for only a moment. "So the CIA sent me a bodyguard without any eyes. That'll be productive."

Sands put his sunglasses back on and sat on the edge of the bed. "How did you know I was in the CIA?"

"I had my PI do some research on you and that's all that came up. So does the CIA know that you're blind?"

"Of course not. What would they want with a blind CIA agent? The whole experience didn't really change anything about me anyway. I'm still a blood sucking sociopath. I just happen to be lacking in the area of vision. And now that we've cleared all of this up, I'm going to sleep. Good night."

Sands laid down and Mort watched his little brother for a while before he too, went to sleep.

-

Sands awoke to the sounds of boiling and the smells of corn. _Well no surprise there Sheldon. He did say that he grows corn._

"Good morning. Corn?"

"Why are you so chipper? I don't remember you being a morning person."

"Well let's just say that I've exercised my demons. I even tried to get a date with the girl at the post office, but she just wouldn't give me a chance. So do you want some corn or not?" Sands noticed the hostility in his brother's voice.

"No thanks. I didn't like it all that much. Maybe you should make something else. Something that won't get caught in your braces." Mort stared at his brother. Contemplating how he felt about this statement. Suddenly Shooter decided to make an appearance.

"Well, Mr. Sands, I suggest you have some of this here corn. It'll do ya good. Ye're just too skinny for your own good." Sands' head snapped up.

"Who are you?"

"John Shooter. Pleased to meet you."

Sands stood up and made his way towards the door. "Well, if you'll excuse me Mr. Shooter I need to get some air." _Sheldon where are you going. That's your brother other there. He needs help. Don't leave him now._

"Shut up. I need blood. Now!" Sands began his search for someone who he could really stick his teeth into. Someone with flavor. And then he found that someone.

"Shit."

"Fancy meeting you here El. Mind if I have a bite." Sands leaned in and bit into El's neck. _Don't take more than you need now, Sheldon. Keep him around. He didn't do anything wrong. _El's body was going limp. And then he fell to the ground. Not dead,but close enough to that mark.

-

So there it is. I'm going to try and write a Libertine story so wish me luck. Thought I'm not sure when I'll write it. I'm working on this story and another one right now so it may take a while. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Okay so I typed this really quickly and at 1:00 in the morning so here it is.And Mort's innervoice is in bold where Sands is still in italics.Enjoy.

-

Sands walked back into the motel room only to find the television blaring what sounded like the news.

"Did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Attack the Mexican President's bodyguard. They found him in some alley." _Sheldon. How could you get caught. That's the first rule and you know it. Don't. Get. Caught. And now you're going to lose your job, your brother, and everything that you have worked to get. _

"Yeah I did. I almost sucked him dry. And it was worth it. Actually the only reason I had to go out and find something to drink was because of your friend Shooter showing up."

Mort froze. He stopped breathing and moving, but not thinking. The voice in his head was back. Which only confirmed one thing. **You have to finish the story. Finish the story. Don't go back. Kill him. Or he'll do it for you. He almost did. When you were insulted. Call the police and have them lock you up. Before you hurt more people. Again. The only bit of family that you have left.**

"I've gotta go home. Now. I've gotta leave. Go back to work. Back to the couch. To Doritos. My Doritos." Mort picked up the ashtray and threw it into the TV.

"Mort."

"Don't screw with me. I'll..I'll...cut your eyes out."

"Too late. Now I want an answer. What happened to your wife?"

"Finished the story. 'I know I can do it.' Tod Downey said, helping himself to another ear of corn from the steaming bowl. 'I know that in time every bit of her will be gone. And her death will be a mystery. Even to me.'"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sands gasped. He wasn't sure what had happened. He brought his hand up to his chest and felt something wet. "You..shot me?" Sands crumpled to the ground in a heap.

"Shit shit shit shit shit." Mort ran out of the room and left his brother bleeding on the ground.

-

Okay just so you know I had no idea that I was going to do that when I wrote this. It just happened. And I apologize for the shortness.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here is chapter six. Wow this is moving pretty quickly and I really like writing this so I hope all of you like reading. Enjoy!

-

Sands could hear the door being pelted from the outside. It was sounding farther and farther away as time went on. The door burst off of its hinges just as he lapsed into an unconscious state.

"El, what is the meaning of this?"

"This is the man who set up the coup d'etat in Mexico. He was planning to kill you."

"This man is dying. Call an ambulance! Quickly!" El Presidente screamed at the police that were waiting just outside the room. Everyone scrambled to follow the order and no one seemed to notice that Sands had stopped breathing and was now extremely lifeless.

"Presidente. It's too late. He's already dead." Right after El said this Sands began to stir. He sat up and shook his head.

"I really do have a fucked up family. My parents left me and my brother to rot and my brother shot me. Just wonderful. El. What a pleasant surprise." Sands pushed El away from him and stood up. "You should consider getting rid of those chains on your pants. They're a dead give away for your location."

"You were dead. I saw you die."

"Not a big deal. It's happened many times before." Sands gave a small smirk and continued walking around the room. "Though I am very hungry. You really must taste this corn. It is just delicious."

The ambulance pulled up in front of the room and paramedics burst into the room.

"Where's the body?" El pointed to Sands who was now gnawing on an ear of corn that wasn't quite finished cooking. "He's not dead."

"That's right. I'm undead. There's a bit of a difference. And I'm extremely thirsty. Got any spare blood in that ambulance."

"What?" Sands shot all three of the paramedics before they could say anything else. Then he was walking over to them and placing his mouth onto the neck of one of them. El watched in horror as Sands helped himself to the dead paramedics.

"Nothing like a good drink to wash down that icky taste that coming back to life leaves in your mouth. Not that these guys are very satisfying. The didn't take care of themselves very well. Sour blood."

"Is that what you did to me?"

"Um...yeah. Didn't take as much though. Wanted to save some for later."

"What happened to the paramedics?"

"Presidente. Well I get two Mexicans for the price of one. I must tell you that I am very happy that my plan didn't succeed in Mexico because then I wouldn't have the pleasure of killing you for myself. Then again I didn't like to do the heavy lifting back then." Sands wiped off his mouth and walked over to El Presidente. "I wonder if you're as sweet as your bodyguard over there."

El Presidente backed away from Sands as soon as he realized how close they were. El was still staring. Almost as if he was in shock.

"Oh. Did El forget to tell you that he was working for me when he was the mariachi at your little banquet thing? He was going to kill you. Not exactly, but he was going to help me restore the balance. Right, The?"

"Lo siento, Presidente." El lifted his gun and shot Sands in the back. It didn't even seem to phase Sands so El shot again. And again.

"You know El, that hurts. Well dying twice in a matter of minutes is a new record for me." He coughed and fell to the ground again. "Just go away. I have work to do." Sands passed out once again.

El and Presidente looked at him and left the room. Signaling for the police officers outside to leave the area.

-

Mort returned to the hotel room and opened the door. He was feeling much better now that he had thought about what he was going to do. **Okay Mort, remember pack up your things. Put them into your car and after your appearances you can go back home. Then everything will be okay.**

On his way to the kitchenette he tripped over something on the floor. Thinking that it was just a bag or a pile of clothes that he had left there he turned around casually to move it out of the way. His breath got caught in his throat after he saw what he had really tripped over.

"Shel?" He reach out a hand and poked him in the stomach. "Shel?" **You killed your brother.** "No. I didn't kill anybody." **He's the sixth person that you've killed. That is if you count that woman in the park just an hour ago. **

Sands brought his hand up to rub his forehead. "The second time today."

"Shel?"

"Oh hello Mort."

"You're alive."

"Technically. Do you know where I could find some puerco pibil?"

"I don't live here. You do."

"Oh right. Note to self: Dying more than once a day is not good for the mind." Mort watched his brother with the same eyes that El had seen him through only moments before. "Hey Mort, can I see your wrist?"

"I thought you didn't have eyes."

"Yeah. Well just let me feel it." Mort stuck out his arm and Sands latched his mouth onto it. He sucked a little bit of blood before Mort pulled his arm back and cradled it to his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"I was thirsty. So when do you have your first book signing? I have to get ready."

"Soon."

"Oh. Excuse me." Sands felt his way to the bathroom. When he came back out he was wearing a very fake looking mustache. "Let's go."

All Mort could do was follow his brother out of the room.

-

There it is. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Well I've proven that I can still write so here is the next installment.

-

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Mort Rainey." The crowd applauded and Mort took the stage.

"Hello. Um I guess that all of you read the new story. And noticed that it isn't really that different. Well all except the ending. So do any of you have questions?"

"Yeah. What made you change the ending?"

"Well. This was a better ending. Um yes, you."

"Did you change the ending in real life as well?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Did you kill your wife?"

"No. There was a man who thought I had stolen his story and he wouldn't leave me alone. Things got out of hand so I rewrote the story with the ending he thought up. It does have his name on the author's page. It says 'by John Shooter'. That's not me."

Sands watched his brother answer question after question and wondered why he didn't just take out a gun and shoot them all. Not one person had said a single thing about his mustache and he was really getting ticked off.

"That's enough for now." Mort looked at Sands after he said this in a manner that said that someone wasn't finished talking.

"Excuse me asswipe, but I wasn't finished yet. I was in the middle of asking a question. And what's with the fake mustache?"

Sands smiled as he pulled out his gun. He aimed it at the man in the crowd and pulled the trigger. The screams of the audience filled the hall and Sands chuckled as he heard them scamper about.

"Shel what was that for?"

"That was because they were all idiots. You're just lucky that I didn't shoot all of them. I would've, but it would be bad publicity for you. Now let's go to the next stop."

"No."

"You have to go. Your fans are waiting for you."

"Promise that you won't shoot anyone?"

"I can't promise that until I know that they won't ask stupid questions."

"Promise!"

"No. Now let's go." Sands walked out of the café without even listening to see if Mort was following him. They arrived at Borders at no time at all.

"Shel please don't shoot anyone. I called an ambulance to the man that you shot, but he was already dead."

"I know he was. That's why I shot him in the head. I didn't want to ever hear his whiny little voice again."

That appearance was fairly easy and Sands barely threatened anyone. Barely being the keyword. Mort was still sitting down and talking to fans when Sands came over and tapped Mort on the shoulder.

"Time to leave. You don't want to miss your flight."

"Oh right. Well it was nice talking to you all. Bye."

On the car ride to the airport Sands was practically sulking in the seat.

"Why did you say it was nice talking to them? You wanted to leave. I could hear it in your voice and yet you lied. Why?"

"Because they read my book."

"That was published years ago anyway. The only thing that was any different was the ending. A waste of time if you ask me."

"That's your opinion."

-

Okay so I started it again because I, as I said, proved to myself that I can write again. I hope you all still like it and Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Well I've had a bad week, but I got this chapter up so I hope that you guys like it.

-

The airport was a bit more than Sands could handle. So many sounds and smells hitting him at once. He didn't even know which way was up at this point. Mort had to practically drag him onto the plane.

"Shel, it's okay. Don't worry." Sands was shaking. His breathing was getting faster and faster and he was looking in every possible direction. "Just chill out. Everything's okay." Mort was rubbing circles on Sands' back and kept leading him to their seats.

It reminded him of when they were younger. When they were split up. Sands had been sick. And it was the day that all the people were coming to adopt the children. They had been getting ready for so long. And Sands couldn't even get out of bed. So Mort had to go downstairs and meet the people that were going to adopt them. The couple wanted nothing to do with Sands. Who was spending the whole morning in the bathroom. So they took Mort home and told little Sheldon that they would be back for him.

Before the couple arrived Mort was doing exactly what he was doing now. Comforting his little brother. Trying to get him relaxed enough to fall asleep.

It hadn't worked then and it wasn't working now. "Shel just go to sleep. Once we get to our seats just lean against the window and sleep. It's all okay."

"Mort. You're not helping. Just let me go."

"Promise you won't run."

"No."

"Then I won't let go until we're sitting down." Mort dragged Sands down the isle and pushed him into his seat. "Sleep."

Sands slumped into the chair and started to fiddle with anything that he get his hands on, which happened to be a packet of ketchup that the last person in that seat had left there. As soon as Mort sat down the packet burst and squirted all over him. He pushed the call button and waited for a someone to come and help him.

The attendant came over and handed him a napkin. Sands smirked as he listened to the woman apologizing for not cleaning up that ketchup packet. Then she snatched it out of his hands rather roughly.

Sands stood and put a gun to her face. "That was rude. You could have asked to have it back."

"I..um...um."

"Sir, put the gun down." Sands pulled another gun out and pointed it at the man who had spoken to him. "Sir, I'm a fire marshal. Put the gun away or I will have to shoot."

"I forgot that they planted you guys on planes. You're all just pussies anyway."

"Shel."

"Sir, put the gun down."

"No." Sands turned his full attention to the fire marshal. The flight attendant started to run, but was caught by a bullet in the back. The fire marshal wasted no time and shot Sands in the stomach. The blow caused him to tip forward and his sunglasses came off.

He got his balance back and raised his gun again. The fire marshal continued to shoot, but Sands only had to pull the trigger once to end the pelting of bullets. The other passengers started to flee the plane. All of them except for Mort and Sands.

Mort picked up Sands sunglasses and handed them to him. "I'm gonna die now Mort."

"But I thought you couldn't die."

"I can't. Well I do for a minute or two."

"Oh."

"Think you could maybe put me in a seat."

"Sure." Mort put Sands in a seat and looked at him.

"The police are almost here. Get going." Sure enough the sirens started getting closer and closer until the cops were running into the plane. Mort was still standing there and they took him out after they were sure that Sands was dead.

"Sir, why were you on the plane with that man?"

"He's my brother. He um. Well I was going back home and he was going with me. He works um, worked for the CIA and he was assigned as my bodyguard."

"And what are your names?"

"I'm Mort Rainey. And he was um Shel."

"Shel?"

"Sheldon. Sheldon Jeffery."

"Rainey?"

"No Sands. Sheldon Jeffery Sands."

"And you were brothers?"

"Yes. Our parents died. And I was adopted. He was sick that day."

"Okay. Well that's all. And you said he was CIA, right?"

"Yeah."

"Was he threatened in anyway before he shot?"

"Well the fire marshal said that he would shoot him. He was holding a gun up to him."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Can I go um say goodbye?"

"Yes." Mort went back into the plane and went over to Sands. He went to poke him, but sands grabbed his arm.

"Don't touch me. Is the fuzz gone?"

"No. Go duck out the back."

"Okay." Sands stood up and opened the emergency exit. He walked out to two police cars with the four policemen all pointing guns at him. He could hear their sirens and the cocking of their guns. Sands took out one of his guns and shot all of them.

"Sands you're already in enough trouble as it is."

"I don't care. Now let's get going." Sands jumped off of the wing and started walking towards one of the police cars. "You have to drive."

"I'm not driving a stolen police car."

"I'll hold a gun to your head. Say that I forced you."

Mort sighed and got into the car. Sands got into the back and put his gun up to the grate separating them. "Where are we going?"

"Tashmore Lakes, I believe. That is where you live, right?"

"Yeah, but we can't drive there from here. It's like a five hour drive."

"So? You're being held at gun point. Now drive." Mort speed off and Sands just laughed as all the cops turned and watched them go by.

-

So I finally updated. Yay! Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So I'm sorry that this took so long, but I wanted to have a long chapter and I kept falling asleep. Enjoy!

-

"Shel? You awake?" They were almost to Tashmore Lakes and Mort didn't want to spend more time than he needed to in that godforsaken hotel. "Shel!"

"Don't call me that." It was more of a groan than a sentence that came from the backseat. "Where are we?" Sands sat up and rubbed his temples.

"We're almost there. So sit up and make it look like you're forcing me to do this. I don't want to go to jail Shel."

"We do you call me Shel?"

"Because that's what I've always called you. What else will I call you? Jeff?" Mort laughed at himself for his little almost joke.

"Sands." Sands lifted his hand that held the gun and pointed it to his forehead. "You know, sometimes I wish that I could just die. Just pull the trigger."

Mort tried to swallow inconspicuously and failed miserably. "Then why don't you do it?"

"I can't." Sands shot at the window and Mort swerved the car.

"Holy shit! What was that for!" He turned around in his seat to look at his deranged little brother. Sands was holding his gun against the window as if he could use it to see. He was mumbling something that Mort couldn't quite make out. And slowly what he was saying became louder.

"Methinks I see you, newly risen. From your embroider'd Bed and pissing, with studied mein and much grimace, present yourself before your glass, to vanish and smooth o'er those graces, you rubb'd off in your Night Embraces."

"What's that?"

"Portsmouth's Looking Glass by John Wilmot."

"It's kind of short for a poem, eh?"

"No."

Mort got out of the car and climbed into the back with Sands. "What's up little bro?"

"Fuck off." Sands unzipped his fly and started to, well as Mort saw it and to put it in non-vulgar terms, grope.

"Shel wait until I get back in the front at least. Jeez."

"No I'm just looking for something. Where is it?"

"Did you loose your dick in there or something?"

"Aha!" Sands pulled out a small gun and checked to see that it was loaded.

"Please don't tell me that you have a crotch dwelling gun."

"Fine. I don't have a crotch dwelling gun. I do have a gun that I keep in a pocket that is sewn into the inside of my pants. Though once or twice I have whipped out the wrong object and/or appendage. That was interesting."

"You disgust me sometimes Sands."

"Hey. You called me Sands."

Mort smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah. I did. So are you ready to go?"

"We have to ditch this car here."

"I know somewhere that we can ditch it. Let's get going."

Sands laid back down and started to fall back asleep. "Hey! You can't fall asleep. You have to hold me at gun point! But please don't use the gun that you keep in your pants."

"Well that's the only gun that I have on me right now."

"Bullshit."

"Fine." Sands sat up and took a gun out from the holster he was wearing. "But the gun that's in my pants is a lot easier to hide."

"Why would you need to hide it?"

"Because I'm in the back. And if I flash my CIA badge the cop would wonder why I'm having you drive if I'm apprehending you."

"Oh." Mort got into the car and started to drive. He went to the cliff where he had gotten rid of Greenleaf and Karsch.

"Where are we, Mort?"

"At a cliff. We can ditch the car here. No one should find it."

"Holy shit!"

"What?"

"That's smell. It smells like someone died."

Mort's eyes widened. **How could he know? No one ever found the bodies, how could he?**

"Good that smell is horrible."

"What smell?"

Sands 'looked' at Mort like he was crazy. "The smell of wet rotting flesh. This is where you dumped the bodies isn't it?"

"What bodies?"

"The people that you killed. You know that cop, the weird guy, your wife, and her boyfriend. And your dog. I thought you loved that dog?"

"How would you know?"

"Read the file. That's the real reason that the CIA sent me here. To convict you on murder charges. And arson. You did burn down your house, didn't you?"

"No."

"I'm not going to convict you. Well I might, but not now."

"Why not?"

"Because I have no other way to get around."

"That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Truly."

Sands took out one of his hand rolled cigarettes and lit up.

"How can you do that without seeing what you are doing?"

"Lots of practice, big bro. Lots of practice."

"Don't call me that Shel."

"Don't call me Shel."

Mort glared at Sands. This was going to drive him crazy. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "What's your problem with that anyway?"

"I'm not a fucking gas station Mort. And it reminds me of the past. Which I don't give a flying fuck about. Why don't you just take me to the airport?"

"No. Now help me get rid of this car."

"How?"

"Just. Oh never mind."

Mort ran the car over the edge and both he and Sands walked to his house. Mrs. Garvey was there and making a sandwich.

"Oh hello Mr. Rainey. Whose this?"

"Hello Mrs. Garvey. This is my brother-."

"Sands."

"Well let me just make some more food."

"No. It's okay. I'll just heat up some corn. You can leave now." Sands grabbed her arm as she was leaving.

"Aww, but Mort. I'm thirsty."

"Sands don't." Before Mort could stop him Sands had bitten into her neck and sucked most of the life out of her. "What are you doing? I'm going to be framed to murder now."

"She's not dead yet. Just almost."

"What are we going to do with her?"

"Put her in her car and then when she wakes up she'll think that she just fell asleep."

"And if she doesn't wake up?"

"Well we'll put the car in the garage and turn it on. Then it will look like she was gassed. By natural causes, of course."

"You think about this stuff to much."

"It's my job." Sands and Mort carried Mrs. Garvey out into her car and started it up. Mort was torn on the subject of whether or not he wanted her to live or die. Well he didn't really do anything wrong. Sands did all of the bad stuff, but it wouldn't be so bad if Mrs. Garvey was gone. Oh well only time will tell.

"I'll take you to the hotel now." Mort walked out the door and got into his own car. Followed by Sands who had listened to his footsteps.

-

Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Geez it's been a loooooooooooong time. And I changed my screen name in case no one had noticed. And I apologize for the long wait, I had a whole bunch of school stuff and no time off, but now I have a four day weekend so all is well. And before I waste too much of your time with a silly note (which half of you won't read anyway), I'm dedicating this chapter to Bella DeMuerte and Sands-agent, because it seems as thought they are the only ones reading this story. Now on with the story!

-

The first two minutes of the car ride went by surprisingly smoothly. Sands smoked one of his cigarettes and leaned his head out the window letting his hair catch the breeze, while Mort kept his eyes on the road and kept the wheel steady with one hand. Out of the blue, Sands threw the cigarette into the street before it was even halfway done and began to fiddle obsessively with the radio. He passed a country station, a rock station, heavy metal, classical, punk, and a show tunes station. Quickly, he flipped back to the show tune and silently sang along to 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' by Judy Garland.

Mort's eyes widened and he glanced over at his brother. After a few minutes of watching Sands not get a single word of the song wrong he began to chuckle. Sands immediately ceased moving his mouth.

"You have a problem, Mortie?" he drawled in a lazy way that seemed almost forced, as if he was trying to get a handle on his emotions.

"You can stop the charade now." He choked out the sentence between bouts of laughter. Soon he was laughing so hard that tears were welling up in his eyes. He had to pull over his Buick until he could compose himself. While he was wiping away the tears from the corners of his eyes he chuckled a bit more and finally said softly, "I haven't laughed that hard since-" he cut his words off short as memories flooded him. _Damn that newspaper for accepting that story. What was so good about that one? Why weren't mine good enough?_ He snapped back into reality and shook his head. "I haven't laughed that hard in a long time." he finished.

"Can we get moving again?" Sands said half-impatiently. Something in the way that Mort had been acting was giving him the willies. He was smoking again and at this rate he would run out of cigarettes. "Oh and by the way, do you have a problem with me enjoying show tunes?"

"It doesn't seem like a very 'badass' thing. And you seem to be into that whole persona."

Sands mouth stayed open even after he had exhaled all the smoke that was currently spiraling away from his face and out the window of the piece of shit Buick that Mort drove. "Well what is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean lo-. All the black clothes, slick and smooth appearance. For chrissakes your fucking belt buckle has a marijuana leaf on it." Mort angrily shoved the car back into drive and pulled out onto the small road leading to the motel that held some...less than pleasant memories for one of the vehicle's occupants.

When the big red letters of the motel came into view Mort snatched the cigarette out of Sands' hand just after he took it out of the pack. He grabbed the lighter along with it and lit up. He took a long drag and shook his head as if trying to clear the fog that had settled around his brain, the fog that was dragging nostalgic dismay into the open battlefield of his mind's eye.

A sharp slap to the back of his head brought him back around and he yelped, "What the fuck?!"

"You passed the motel, fuckmook." Sands squirmed in his seat and tried to get comfortable. He leaned his head against the passenger door frame and ignored the pain of his sunglasses being shoved against his skull. He shifted a few more times and finally got fed up with the plastic hitting his face and wiped the glasses off. He tossed them onto the dashboard carelessly and snuggled into the suddenly comforting front seat of his older brother's car. He gave into the gently caress of sleep and let go of the question his mind wanted answered.

Mort did everything he could not to look over at what he knew would be there. He had heard the sunglasses hit the dash and forced himself not to use his peripheral vision. He made a U-turn and headed back towards the motel. When he parked the car he turned his head to wake up Sands and gagged. Mort squeeze his eyes shut and poked his little brother in the shoulder.

"Shel?"

Sands moved away from the poke.

"Wake up. We're at the motel. Now get out."

Sands stretched in the seat and hit Mort in the mouth. He snatched his sunglasses and placed them back on his face. He opened up the door and hopped down to the ground.

"See ya. I'm gonna go pick up a little snack." A small smirk crossed his face and he slammed the car door shut behind him.

Mort gulped and headed back to his cabin.

Sands walked confidently into the office of the motel. The smell of perfume and the sound of fake fingernails striking the keyboard told him that him might get his snack sooner than he thought. He felt around slightly for the bell and dinged it when his hands finally found what they were looking for. The typing stopped and he could hear gum popping.

"I'd like a room, please."

"Sure." The typing started again and the gum popped. "Name?"

"Sands."

"How will you be paying?"

"Cash."

"You're in room 3." The woman grabbed the key off the hook and held it out to him. The jingling of the bracelets on her wrists gave away her hand's location.

Sands grabbed her hand and the key with it. "What is your name, sugarbutt?"

The gum popped again. "Shirley."

"Well Shirley, I'm new in town and I don't have any idea where to find a bite to eat. Wanna give me," he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, "A hand?"

He heard Shirley giggle and pop her gum again. "Sure. Let me just close up." She flicked the 'no vacancy' switch and a small 'NO' light up on the sign in the window. She walked around the desk and out the door, with Sands following her, licking his lips as he thought of the warm blood that was going to pass through his system.

The familiar whoop-whoop of the car unlocking reached Sands' ears and he groped for the door handle. When he opened the door he swung himself into the seat and leaned towards Shirley. He had his lips against her neck as he spoke, "Or I could just get bite to eat right here."

"How would you d-" a scream cut off the end of her sentence as Sands bit into her neck and sucked the life out of her. When he was done and she was a listless he licked along the bite marks that he had left behind. "That really hits the spot." He dragged her body back into the motel office and propped her up in the chair. He slit her neck down the two bites and made them become one. Then he grabbed a piece of tape and taped over the cut. He laid her head against the keyboard and shoved a piece of gum down her throat. He smiled to himself and walked to his room, feeling the numbers on all the doors until he found the right one. He laid down on the bed after locking the door and fell asleep.

-

There it is! And the whole newspaper thing is from Stephen King's short story _Secret Window, Secret Garden, _which I just recently read and my characterization of Mort may begin to follow that version of him. I'll definitely add in plot points from that short story so if you need explaining simply ask. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Yay! I updated. Sorry for the time between chapters, but I just don't have that much time to write between work, babysitting, and school. I'll try to write more.

-

Sands sat up in the uncomfortable motel bed and rubbed his temples with his right hand. He stretched a bit and stood up. His hands naturally felt around for a table or dresser or TV. His hip slammed into the corner of the table and he grunted.

"Why the fuck do motel have to keep all of the furniture in one fucking corner of the room?" He touched his way to the shower and turned it on. One of the things that he prided himself on now, was taking a shower. Most people aren't aware of how slippery the bottom gets and how difficult it is to listen to the outside world through the streaming water. His gun was placed within arms reach and he climbed in.

-

Mort woke up with no memory of falling asleep. He kept his eyes closed and gripped the cold steel harder in his hand. If he lifted his hand, it would be at his head. If he flicked his thumb, it would pull back the hammer. If he squeezed the little ignition strip he could blast his brain all over the driver side window.

But there was no telling who would pull through. Maybe him. Maybe Shooter. Maybe they would both die with the body. Maybe there was more than just Shooter. The rest of them were waiting for perfect time to pounce.

He let his head fall against the top of the steering wheel and repeated the action. Over. And over. And over. And over again.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

A constant beat of insanity.

-

Sands slipped his gun into his belt and followed the memorized steps out the door and towards the office of the little shithole. He heard the dull sound of stomping and turned towards it.

The gloved fingers of his hand felt a truck. He traced his way to he driver's side and tapped on the window. He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the side of the truck.

Mort stopped his banging and looked at Sands through the window. He looked down at the gun and threw it back into the glove bow with disgust. He rolled down the window and swallowed.

"Heya, Shel."

Sands gave a short, 'hm,' and walked his way to the passenger door. He grabbed the handle on the first try and jumped in. "I hope there's somewhere that serves decent food in this stinking little butt crack of a town."

Mort continued to just stare straight ahead.

"That's your cue to drive, fuckmook."

"I'm not your chauffeur."

"Of course." Sands took out his gun and pointed it at his brother. "You're my hostage. Now drive. I've got a hankerin' fer some grub."

-

A/N: Sorry for the shortness, but nothing is flowing right now. Thanks for reading, please review.


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